


Arsonist's Lullaby

by literally_no_idea



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Death, Arson, Don't copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 21:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18416024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_no_idea/pseuds/literally_no_idea
Summary: After moving in to live with a Norse God, a super soldier, a rich technology and engineering genius, and two spies, you would think Bruce would have learned not to ask questions he didn’t want to know the answers to. You would be wrong.





	Arsonist's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [ this post](https://corvidprompts.tumblr.com/post/183193758092/what-are-you-doing-committing-arson-want-to) by corvidprompts on tumblr:
> 
> ["What are you doing?"
> 
> "Committing arson. Want to join?"]
> 
> I've officially decided that I will go down with this rare ship if it's the last thing I do. Please enjoy my first attempt at writing them together.
> 
> This is also a gift for marvelfanficprompts on tumblr, for their post [ here](https://marvelfanficprompts.tumblr.com/post/183461837493/clintbruce-prompt-2) in which they requested more Clint/Bruce content of any kind.

After moving in to live with a Norse God, a super soldier, a rich technology and engineering genius, and two spies, you would think Bruce would have learned not to ask questions he didn’t want to know the answers to. You would be wrong.

 

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks, following Clint towards the elevator.

 

Clint turns, setting down the gas can he was carrying and readjusting the backpack on his back.

 

“Going out to commit arson. Wanna come?”

 

Bruce’s eye twitches. “What.”

 

“I’m going to go commit arson. Y’know, burn someone’s house down?”

 

“I know what arson is!” Bruce has to take a deep breath. “I meant, why are you committing arson? And against who?”

 

Clint shrugs. “This guy killed his neighbor’s dog. I know, because I was there when they were yelling about it on their front lawn. Guy claimed he was ‘freeing the dog from slavery,’ or some shit like that. That might not have been what he said, I don’t know, I didn’t have my hearing aids in and lip reading is fucking hard.”

 

“So you’re going to burn his house down over something you’re not sure you even understood properly?”

 

Clint rolls his eyes. “Uh, no, of course not? When I realized something was up, I put my hearing aids in, and it both looked and sounded like that’s what the dog owner said too when I talked to them afterwards.”

 

Bruce should know better than to ask. “After what?”

 

“After I punched the asshole! Come on, he was getting in the dog owner’s face and the dog owner was already crying, yelling in the face of a man who’s crying is just cold hearted. Anyway, I’m headed out. Like I said earlier, when you so rudely interrupted me, are you coming?”

 

Bruce sighs. “You know what? Yeah. Fuck it. I’m not a fan of animal killers. Let’s go burn down this man’s house. Why not.”

 

“Excellent. Let’s go.”

 

Bruce follows Clint into the elevator.

 

“So, why do you have your hearing aids in right now anyway?” he asks as the elevator carries them down the dozens of floors to the lobby.

 

Clint gives him a look. “Uh, because I need to be able to hear if a cop yells ‘freeze, put your hands up!’ while I’m torching someone’s house?”

 

“Right. That makes sense.”

 

The elevator doors open, and Clint gestures at the doors. “After you.”

 

Bruce steps out, and Clint steps out to join him, walking together to the doors.

 

“Anyway, since you’re joining me on this adventure, let’s talk. You might have to repeat yourself once or twice since I’m not looking at you, but tell me about yourself.”

 

“Clint, we live in the same building. We fight on a superhero team together.”

 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t really tell me anything about  _ you _ . Like, okay, what’s your favorite color?”

 

Bruce snorts. “Really?”

 

“Really. Mine’s purple. Come on, give me something here.”

 

“This is like being in elementary school again. Okay, well, mine’s actually purple, too.”

 

Clint frowns, turning to look at Bruce’s face as they walk. “Sorry, repeat that again?”

 

“I said, this is like being in elementary school again. And okay, well, mine’s actually purple, too.”

 

Clint grins. “See? We never would have known we had that in common if you hadn’t joined me tonight!” He stops in front of a house.

 

“Okay, this is it! Chez Asshole, about to be Chez Barbeque!”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “So, do you need me to do anything here?”

 

“Nope, just wait here, and if there’s cops, try to distract them.”

 

Clint disappears towards the house with the gas can, peering in through the windows, and Bruce sits down on the sidewalk, because standing in front of the house they’re about to burn down is probably a good way to attract unwanted attention. He watches the street, occasionally turning back to see how Clint is doing.

 

Both Clint and the gas can are out of sight for a while, and Bruce is starting to wonder if something went wrong when there’s a loud whoosh, and the house goes up in flames, Clint coming around the front of the house and waving for Bruce to come closer. Panicked, Bruce jumps up, running over, and Clint grabs his arm, practically dragging him to the backyard.

 

“Over here, we don’t want to be seen. We can ditch out through the back fence, but I have one last thing I want to do first,” Clint says, pulling the backpack off of his back and producing a bag of marshmallows and a skewer.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Bruce hisses as Clint pokes two marshmallows onto the skewer, holding it out towards the burning house to toast them.

 

“What? I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have brought two skewers,” Clint says, as casually as if they’re discussing the weather.

 

“That’s not the point, Clint, we are not getting caught because you wanted marshmallows!”

 

“Shh, relax, we’re fine, there’s at least 5 more minutes before the fire department gets here, and that’s assuming someone’s already reported the fire, which they almost definitely haven’t. Besides, one of these is for you!”

 

Clint blows on the marshmallows in question, which have caught on fire and are now slightly burnt. “I like mine a little more on the crunchy side, personally. Here.” Clint holds out the skewer. “Want the first one?”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “You’re insane.”

 

“And you’re just realizing this?” Clint holds the skewer closer to the fire again blowing on the marshmallows when they catch on fire until they’re charred almost entirely black, and then he eats both, moaning around a mouthful of marshmallow.

 

“Seriously, Bruce, you gotta try this. There’s nothing like toasted marshmallows ala asshole’s torched house. Come on, you know you want one.”

 

Bruce eyes the bag of marshmallows, noting the surprisingly siren-free air, and then nods. “Fine. But just one. And then we leave.”

 

Clint grins. “You got it.” He skewers two more marshmallows, holding them out to the fire. “How do you like your marshmallows? Medium rare? Well done?”

 

“I also like them well done,” Bruce admits, and Clint positively beams.

 

“I’m learning so much about you tonight! Also like the color purple, also like well done toasted marshmallows, also love animals, I’ll be damned, Bruce, we might just be on our way to a beautiful relationship!”

 

With the marshmallows sufficiently burnt, Clint holds out the skewer. “After you.”

 

Bruce is about to take a bite when sirens start up nearby and start coming closer, and fast.

 

“Shit,” Clint says, “Alright, let’s go!” He zips up his backpack, holding the skewer between his teeth. “Can you jump the fence, or do you need a boost?”

 

Bruce looks between Clint and the fence, heart racing. “Uh, I’m going to need a boost, but how are you going to--”

 

“Don’t worry about me. Here, go, now!” Clint cups his hands like a cheerleader would, holding them out in front of him by the fence.

 

Bruce doesn’t need to be told twice. He puts his foot up, grabbing the top of the fence and hauling himself over with Clint’s help. He drops down on the other side, chest heaving, and watches as Clint quite literally flips over the damn fence, landing gracefully on his feet on the other side.

 

Clint grabs Bruce by the shirt, hauling him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go, we need to get at least two blocks away,” he says, and Bruce stumbles as Clint pulls him along before he can even get his footing.

 

“How do you know this?” he asks as they run, and Clint shrugs.

 

“I was a spy and assassin for years, you learn some things,” he says casually, and it’s not until they’re two blocks away that Clint slows them down, and it’s another block before Clint stops entirely, ducking into a back alley, Bruce collapsing on the ground with his back against the wall.

 

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Bruce says, putting his fingers against the side of his throat to check his pulse.

 

“Well, we did it, and it was fun. At least, it was fun for me.”

 

“It would have been more fun for me if I’d actually gotten to eat one of those marshmallows,” Bruce jokes, and is thrown off guard when two burnt marshmallows on a skewer appear under his nose. He looks up at Clint, wide eyed, and Clint grins.

 

“Come on, I wasn’t going to let you miss out on the literal taste of victory.”

 

Bruce laughs, taking the skewer and eating both marshmallows, much to Clint’s dismay.

 

Bruce has to admit, victory does taste pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Feel free to yell prompt ideas, comments, opinions, or anything else at me on my main tumblr blog [ here](http://tired-disabled-and-in-pain.tumblr.com/)


End file.
